“Uh-huh,” he smiled back before he kissed me. I didn’t mention that the baby had spit up on his shoulder and down his back. Milk puke showed up really well on a black Gulf Coast Paranormal t-shirt. “We’ve got to go soon. Midas says we’re taking the case, so we’ll need to upgrade the imaging software and stock the batteries. I also want to try out that new ghost box.”
I’d had a million and one things to do recently and had no time for upgrading software. It’s like Joshua thought I had all the time in the world. Didn’t he understand how long it took to upgrade memory-heavy software? Doing so would have locked up my computer and I still had all that footage to go through. I ignored his insinuation and refused to allow him to get under my skin. I wasn’t even sure he knew he was getting under my skin. My husband looked out of sorts like he hadn’t slept, but I knew that wasn’t the case. He slept like a rock while every noise in the house woke me up.
Every creaking floorboard and every blustery wind that whistled around the corner of the house drew my attention. My “momma” hearing, as Mrs. McBride referred to this heightened sense of awareness, wouldn’t let me rest at all. Not even when Emily managed to sleep.
And then there were the usual butterflies that came before almost every investigation. Maybe I should take up running, like Cassidy. A good workout might be the thing I needed but who has the energy? Once again I felt a twinge of guilt because occasionally, I missed my pre-Mommy days.
Not that being a mother to Emily wasn’t amazing. But sometimes…yeah.
“Great. Oakleigh House, huh? That’s a Mobile landmark. We’ll be ready. I’d like to finish my walk though. Stretch my legs.”
“Walk around the backyard? There’s not much to see. We can take a walk later. Come on, Sierra. Mom says she’ll watch Emily so we have free time before we head to the office if you know what I mean,” Joshua said with a lazy smile. God, he was horrible at flirting. Even after being married for years he was bad at it. Really bad at it. And his puke-stained shirt wasn’t making the offer any more appealing. I tried not to laugh at his proposal.
“I’ll be ready in a few minutes. Um, you need to change your shirt, Joshua. Emily upchucked on you,” I grinned as I patted Emily’s back. She was dozing off to sleep now that she’d emptied her stomach on her Daddy’s t-shirt. Great, she’s sleeping but it meant she wouldn’t sleep tonight.
“Aw, shoot. Okay, I’ll meet you inside. But please hurry. I can’t stand smelling like sour milk.”
“Roger that.” I grinned as he headed off to clean himself up and deposit Emily at her second home. I glanced over the fence again, but there wasn’t any other movement. No moving blinds or pacing brunettes. I didn’t know what to make of all this. So, negative energy being collected and tossed over the fence? Why? Why would the neighbor do such a vile thing?
Unless they’d encountered my mother-in-law on the wrong day.
Unless she’d ticked them off by reporting them to some agency for a messy yard or loud partying. Oh, yeah. I could see this happening.
This was going to take more than a walk. I would have to put up a barrier, albeit a temporary one. What I really needed was salt and lots of it. This entity had an agenda and it wasn’t going to stop until it achieved its objective.
Over my dead body, I thought as I gripped the stones.
I walked back inside.
Chapter Four—Cassidy
I felt a little bad for bailing on Midas, but I had to make this supply run. The way I figured it, my boyfriend would be itching to start the investigation tonight. He’d missed the last handful of investigations, although he hadn’t really missed much, except the fire station. That had been an incredible experience. But, he’d worked through the loss of Jocelyn Graves as best as he could and was ready to help his school friend Lucy. I was glad for that, but also a little nervous for him. I couldn’t say why.
For my part, I wanted to be ready for whatever we encountered. If a ghost could shove a ladder out from under you what else might it do? Shove another one of us off a roof? I couldn’t allow us to step into a dangerous situation without knowing who or what waited for us. I couldn’t allow that to happen to Midas again.
Not again.
Through my own procrastination, I’d allowed my art supplies to dwindle to absolute lows. Which was a problem now that I had something to paint. Sure, I could order supplies from an online store, and I probably would do that, but I had to have some specific shades right now. Like dark purple. Vibrant black. That’s black with blue undertones. I need gray and dull white paint too.
In my mind, I could see the fabric, the fabric of a dress and long, purple shadows sliding across a white porch. Two people, a woman, a young woman with a man. No. Not a man. He wasn’t much more than a boy and younger than she…
The clarity of the image in my mind made me stand still, but then the picture faded. Nope. I would have to paint if I wanted to see more. I wasn’t like Sierra. I couldn’t just tune in and watch scenes from the past in my mind. I wasn’t like Carrie Jo, who dreamed about ghosts and past events. I had to work for my visions with a pencil, a pen, or some ink. I didn’t really begrudge my fellow mediums the ease with which their abilities worked. Not really.
But sometimes I wished it were easier. Not so immersive.
All I knew was that I had to see more and to do that I would have to paint. The colors were clear, but the images, not so much. But they would be. I had no doubt. I added a few tubes of paint to my basket and continued my search for just the right paint hues.
“I know you,” a young woman’s voice spoke behind me. “Cassie, right?”
“Cassidy,” I said as I turned around. It was my natural instinct to correct anyone who called me by the wrong name. And today I was feeling especially stressed out.
“I’m Lucia. You probably don’t remember me.” A tall woman with wavy dark hair smiled down at me. “I took your art class last summer. I painted a sunflower collage.”
No, I didn’t remember her, even though she had striking features, but that sunflower collage I would never forget. Two dozen sunflowers painted in an abstract fashion. It was a mess of yellows, oranges, and browns, but the artist couldn’t have been prouder. That was all that mattered, right?
Yes, I remember you, Lucia. You were a huge pain in the ass.
“Sunflowers. Yes, I do recall. Nice to see you again.” I didn’t offer her my hand as both of us were holding baskets. And there was something about Lucia that didn’t come off as friendly, despite her bright eyes and warm-looking skin.
“I never did thank you properly for that class. It was a real eye-opener. It really had an effect on me. You have a rare talent.”
“That’s good to hear. That you learned something, I mean. It’s rare that I get to reconnect with former students. Are you taking any other art classes? There’s no way you learned everything in just four weekend classes. There’s lots more to learn with far better teachers.” I smiled back at her hoping to find warmth somewhere in those eyes.
“No more art for me. I’ve moved on to more satisfying things. Have you ever heard of palmistry?”
“Like songwriting?” I wasn’t exactly sure what she could be talking about and I wanted nothing more than to get out of the store and away from her. Lucia put off an uncomfortable vibe. I got the feeling that she was trying to invade my space, spiritually speaking. Weird that I would think such a thing.
“No, like reading palms. I’m actually quite good. Would you like me to read yours, Cassie?”
My smile vanished, “Please, call me Cassidy. I was thinking psalms, not palms. I really have to get back to the studio. I’ve got a project to work on. Sorry I can’t oblige.” Wrapping my rejection in a big smile I waited for the conversation to come to a polite ending.
“You shouldn’t do it,” her expression morphed as she stared at a place beyond me. “You shouldn’t go.”
“Do what?” I shifted the basket to one hand. Yep. I was feeling a bit irritated now.
<
br /> Suddenly the warmth appeared in Lucia’s eyes. “Please, let me just take a look at your hand. Help a former student out. I think I can help.” I stuttered my response but she interrupted me. “Practice makes perfect, isn’t that what you always said?”
I don't remember ever having said that, but for some reason, I gave her my hand.
Geesh, if we can get this over with now, that would be great.
“Not to be rude, but I really have to get going. I only have a minute. My project is pretty urgent.”
“An urgent painting? That sounds interesting.” She tugged me toward her and briefly stared into my eyes before turning her attention to my hand. Lucia leaned into my palm and traced a few lines with her finger. She closed her eyes, whispered and then opened her eyes again before continuing to touch my open palm. “What an interesting hand,” she mused as she turned my palm slightly. “You are so creative but I guess you knew that.” A few customers walked past and eyed us curiously, but I pretended that having your palm read in the middle of the store was nothing unusual.
Move along, people. Nothing to see here.
“Oh, you need to branch out. Painting and sketching aren’t the only mediums available to you. There’s something else.” Suddenly, my bucket of paint supplies became extremely heavy and my vision blurred. I couldn’t explain this sensation, but it was as if an invisible hand reached into my skull and touched my brain. Then as quickly as she began her work she gasped and dropped my hand like it was on fire.
“What happened? Did you lose the connection?” Probably a stupid question but I had no idea how palmistry worked.
“Um, I have to go. It was nice seeing you, Cassidy,” Lucia gave me a strange look as she deposited her basket in front of me and left the art supply store. She didn’t even purchase her supplies. And I thought she said she gave up painting. Why were there paint supplies in her basket? What was I supposed to make of all this?
“Hey, wait! Lucia?” If I had any thought of chasing her that was quickly stifled by the wave of odd sickness that struck me. Was I going to throw up? What in the world?
“Are you okay? Do you need a hand?” This was one of the counter helpers; I couldn’t remember her name and my eyes weren’t too reliable right now. Couldn’t focus on the name tag either.
“I think I’m okay,” I lied as I clung to the wall unit beside me to steady myself. A few seconds later I was feeling not quite better, but at least I didn’t feel as if I were standing on the deck of a ship. “Let me carry that for you.” I followed behind the girl and checked out a few minutes later. I loaded my cart of supplies in my vehicle and headed home. The nausea returned a few times, but not as severe as that first wave. That one nearly took me out.
I thanked my lucky stars that I made it inside the house. Domino watched me unsympathetically as I grabbed a glass of water from the refrigerator. What happened in that store? What happened to me?
“Hey, kitty. Did you miss me?” His indifference wasn’t too charming at the moment. Eventually, he did rub against my leg and allowed me to scratch his neck, but then he was off again. Probably to play with the curtains. He had more than a few cat toys, but nothing mesmerized him like my blue living room curtains.
Maybe I got too hot. I wanted nothing more than to lie down and sleep it off, but it wasn’t going to happen. I might not have the energy to paint, but I could draw. I dug in my bookbag and grabbed my sketchbook. I didn’t care which pencil I used, I had to get this image out of my head. I had to! Myrna needed to speak to me. Wait, that’s not right. That was not her name. Moira?
Still didn’t have it right.
For now, I would call her what everyone else called her.
She was the Lady in Black.
Chapter Five—Minnie
1848
“Mary had a little lamb, little lamb, little lamb. Mary had a little lamb; his fleece was white as snow.” Shaking the rattle toy at the baby I made a ridiculous face. The red-faced baby ceased his crying and poked out his lower lip for just the briefest second. It was long enough to give me hope. The child had been crying for at least a half-hour and it was my job to keep him happy. Happy and safe. The truth was he had a slight fever and his bottom needed some salve but I was tired. So, very, tired.
“Look, Siggy. Lala Lamb loves you. Lala loves you. No more tears, Siggy. No more.”
Only six months old, baby Sigmund Everett had become my sole chore and I was ill-prepared for my charge. A month ago the Everett family, and there were five of them, not including servants, had come to stay at Oakleigh. Mrs. Everett was the sister to the lady of the house, Mrs. Levert, and the two got along quite well. At least in the beginning. More than one servant whispered about the growing tension in the house nowadays.
At first, the sisters spent their days pouring over books, writing with their fancy pens, reading passages aloud. Acting, singing, and dancing, to the delight of their husbands. When they weren’t entertaining one another they entertained notable guests, or so I heard Swanzy refer to the never-ending parade of visitors.
The newly married Mrs. Levert was enjoying her new status in Mobile, and she wasn’t eager to share it with her older sister. That must be when the problems started. What did I know? I was not an Elevated Person. Only a servant in this great big house and expansive property.
What must it be like to be one of those women? To be elevated in society, to have everyone calling and celebrating you? I hoped one day I would know. Until my happy change of position, I would never have imagined such a thing, but now…now everything had changed.
Siggy began to cry again. I rocked the bassinet a little faster and continued to sing as I daydreamed. Eventually, Siggy reached for the lamb and stopped his crying. His peaceful play probably wouldn’t last long. Fever made babies cranky. If this kept up, I would have to tell Swanzy about it and ask her for help. Mrs. Everett did not like speaking with me at all. Fevers could kill a child if left to do their work and I didn’t want to lose my charge. And I cared about Sigmund Everett. He was a sweet baby, most of the time.
But no way did I want to return to scrubbing floors. Never again.
Scrub, scrub, scrub. Day in and day out. Scrubbing floors with the horsehair brush. Or scrubbing walls, polishing furniture, ironing, and steaming clothes. Hands wet all day, skin red and cracking. But then this change of duty came and completely by chance. I’d been passing through the conservatory, Mrs. Everett was clearly frustrated by her crying son, she was a young woman and like me, did not have much experience with babies although tending to fussy children came naturally to me.
Children liked me.
I wondered why Mrs. Everett’s stepdaughter Agnes did not offer to help with the sweet little Sigmund, but I was in no position to ask that question. Altima Everett had been so impressed that she insisted I should become the child’s governess.
I had breathlessly accepted the offer before her sister could talk her out of it. Swanzy, the head housekeeper, had been shocked by it.
Naturally, my coming up had caused a stir at Oakleigh, among the serving staff and the slaves. Swanzy spent an hour dressing me down for being so forward, making myself available.
“You have no idea what you’re in for, Minnie Lee. No idea at all. Mind yourself. Keep your eyes on that baby and for the love of heaven, don’t allow one hair on his head to be harmed. You’ll have hell to pay if you do. Why they don’t hire a proper governess is beyond me.”
So here I was, orphaned Minnie Lee, barely eighteen, plain-faced and plain-spoken, caretaker for the treasured Everett baby. I had my own room now, next to Sigmund’s and two new dresses to wear. Serving dresses, black with a white apron but new all the same.
Agnes never came around to see him, no one except Jamie. He hated being at Oakleigh and made no secret of it, but the child’s father was mightily proud of the newest Everett. Once a week he made a great show of coming to the nursery and leaning over the bassinet to see him. He never held him, Mr. Everett was a bear of a man
who I suspected was not comfortable handling wriggling children. Mrs. Everett was a tiny thing was generally unavailable, at least to me and Sigmund. I wondered to myself of course, why she would deign to marry a much older man with a family. But as Swanzy reminded me, it wasn’t my place to think about such things. I’d heard Mary, another member of the lower household say that Mr. Everett had more money than the governor of Alabama and that he was building a house a few miles from here. I couldn’t be sure that was the truth but that could be just rumors.
I kept my focus on doing a good job. Such a good job that Mr. Everett would find me irreplaceable and take me with them when they left here. I wanted that so badly. The position I held here as housemaid had been my mother’s position. And when she died, I inquired of the house and was quickly brought on to fill her place. That had seemed a stroke of luck at the beginning, but then it began to feel like a prison term. I was paid a few coins a week and I had no days off.
And then there was Jamie. I couldn’t imagine being away from him. Beautiful, dark haired Jamie Everett. He liked walking about in his dark cloak. As if he was made of shadow and mystery. Indeed, he was that. From the first day I spoke to him I loved him, with all my being. But cautiously so, as a woman in my position could hardly hope to approach Jamie as an equal. I would be patient and kind and if he could offer only friendship, that would suffice.
That was a lie I told myself. My heart would never be satisfied with friendship only.
Jamie’s sister Agnes warned me that I was playing the fool. That Jamie had no intention of offering me anything honorable, he merely hoped for some amusement. I denied everything, of course, I denied caring for Jamie, or that I hoped he kissed me. I denied that there was any hope inside me for more. I denied it, but she only laughed and walked away with one last warning.
The Ghosts of Oakleigh House (Gulf Coast Paranormal Book 13) Page 3